Helena (Story)
Harsh, white light brust through the translucent curtains of eyelids, making their way through the pupils and ultimately to the retinas, where they were processed and sent to the brain. The young girl, no older than fifteen, opened her eyes and saw the world before her. Disappointment was the initial reaction. The room was white and bare, without any furnishings, and was illuminated by the single, bright bulb in the ceiling. A loud buzzer grabbed her heart and pulled it out through her mouth. She stumbled back, panting heavily. "Good morning, Candidate 4771." "Good-good morning," she managed to stammer. Could they hear her? It didn't seem like it, but she wasn't about to take that risk. "Where am I?" This question was asked with much more confidence. "You have been selected for Indigo Protocol. From now on, your designation will be 4771 only. Is this clear?" "Yes." She ran a hand along the walls, only to find them quite seamless. There was no escape from this white cell. "Your past now has no meaning. Only the future is worth worrying about. What are the names of your parents?" She opened her mouth to speak, but to her surprise, she didn't know what to say. No way, she thought. This is not happening. "I-I-I don't know." Even though her mind scrambled for purchase on any memories remaining, it found none and kept slipping. What have they done? "Good, 4771. What is your name?" "That would be-" She stopped in mid-sentence, realising that she didn't know what to call herself. The muscles in her legs gave away, and she fell to her knees. Was it some kind of test? If so, why couldn't she remember? "Please respond, 4771." "I don't know," she whispered, tears trickling down her face. ''No no no no no no no no no no-'' "That is good news. You will forget them all soon." She screamed. It was a desperate scream, one that represented the loss, the shock and the cofusion that was enveloping her mind. When she finally stopped, the tears no longer came. A resolution had been made: if she was going to make it out of this mess, changes would have to be made. The walls around her shimmered. They changed into glass, which showed dozens of teenagers trapped in cells like her, in their plain white shirt and shorts. They stared at her, and she stared back at them. No recognition was passed between any of them. "We are your new family now." "I want a name." She rose to her full height and looked straight up, where the voice was coming from. "You are 4771." "A number isn't a name." There was an extended pause, and what she thought was paper shifting. "You will be allowed to have a nickname," her captor finally said. "What will it be?" Around her, the people in the other cells looked up, as if they heard the same message. She breathed out slowly, running through the few names that remained in her memory. They had no relation of course - she was merely finding one she could use. "What will it be?" The girl smiled, her troubles forgotten. "My name is Helena," she said.